


I Write Sins, Not Tragedies

by Erosanderis



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Sex, Author!Bucky, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mentions of Bloodplay, Murder Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Serial Killer!Steve, Sex Toys, Top Steve Rogers, mentions of knifeplay, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27047347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erosanderis/pseuds/Erosanderis
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a popular crime novelist working on the fifth and final book of his bestselling series. The book itself is inspired by a killer who is active in his home of New York City. He uses his darling husband Steve as his inspiration for his main character.The thing is, Bucky’s novels aren’t narrated by a cop, but by the killer himself.Oh, and the other thing, his husband is his muse because he is a serial killer himself. In fact, he’s the one committing the murders in New York. And Phoenix. And Chicago. And Boston. And Seattle. And a few other cities that Bucky has yet to write books about.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> I would like to preface this entire nightmare story with the fact that I watch a ton of criminal minds and other shows of that sort...... The plan is to have this all done by Halloween, so let’s hope I can keep on track with that.... 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Xoxo  
> -Kit

**_Chris couldn’t help but smile as he felt the knife plunge into the man’s chest. The smooth glide of a blade between two ribs was all it took. Just one puncture in the lungs and he was done for._**

**_Chris could see it in the man’s eyes, the moment he knew he was about to die. WAs the knife pierced his flesh, the fear changed to something much worse. The wounds in his arms and legs had caused immense pain, but they weren’t lethal. This one though, this was the one that would take his life._ **

**_The man’s chest heaved as he tried in vain to suck more air into his lungs. He fought against the feeling of blood filling the place his breath should be. Tears fell down his cheeks as he gasped and writhed against his bindings._ **

**_The knife twisted slightly, making the wound bigger to speed up the process. As much as Chris enjoyed watching the light slowly fade from his victim’s eyes, he had other things to do to complete his ritual._ **

**_As the man beneath him let out his final breath, the knife was pulled out of his chest. In its place, he put a funnel. With some finesse, he ensured the end of the funnel let out into the man's lungs._ **

**_With everything in place, Chris stood from where he was crouched on the floor. He sauntered over to the table where the rest of his materials were set out. Before anything else he pulled off the gloves he was wearing, placed them inside a plastic bag, and put the bag into his backpack to be disposed of later. He put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the tin of coffee grounds._ **

**_He crouched back down next to the body. Double checking the funnel was in place, he took the lid off the tin of coffee and began to pour the grounds into it._ **

**_This was Chris’s favorite part of the ritual. With every new set of murders, always in threes, he changed his signature. It could be anything from cutting off the hair of his victims -he did this back in his early days of killing prostitutes,- putting his victims in homemade patchwork dresses -this one was for his stint with the frat boy type,- or whatever other little quirks he could think of to distract or confuse the investigators. For this triad, he chose to insert coffee grounds into their lungs. Where the idea came from he wasn’t entirely sure, but he was looking forward to whatever theory the investigators came up with to explain it._ **

**_When the tin of coffee was empty, he carefully extracted the funnel from the lung and placed it into the empty tin. He carried them back over to his table, setting them down and grabbing his needle and thread. With surgical precision he stitched up the wound._ **

**_He then moved his attention to the bindings. They were the same ropes he had been using for his last three cycles of killings. He took his time collecting them, making sure to properly store them for future use. His time as ‘The Coffee Can Killer’ had come to an end with this man, but his precious little ropes would stay with him. Especially since he would occasionally use them in bed._ **

**_Chris cleaned up the mess he made, ensuring that there would be no evidence left behind. Walking towards the door of the warehouse, he was satisfied with the work he had done. He looked back, taking one last moment to enjoy his handiwork before going home to make passionate love to his darling husband who was none the wiser._ **

“Going home to make passionate love to his darling husband who was none the wiser,” Steve mocked, crawling into Bucky’s lap. “Darling, if you lived in blissful ignorance we wouldn’t have the life we do.” 

Bucky’s hands moved to grip his husband’s ass, pulling him impossibly closer. “That might be the case, but I happen to be quite fond of the things we do when you come home to me.” 

“Are you now?” Steve teased him, grinding his hips down.

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed. “And as much as I would love to relive some of those moments, I have to send that off to my publisher. Plus, don’t you have to plan something to do for my next novel?”

Steve somehow manages to both glare and pout at him. “But sweetie,” he whined, extending the last syllable of the pet name. 

“Nope. Your cuteness isn’t going to change my mind. We both have work to do.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbled, crawling off Bucky's lap and sitting next to him on the couch. “Where do you want your next book to take place?” 

“I was thinking you could stay close to home on this one. Having you in Seattle for the coffee thing sucked. Would Manhattan be too close to home for comfort?” 

Steve mulled over the idea for a moment. “It’s a little closer than I would like, but I feel like it might seem odd for you to go this long without picking a New York based killer to inspire your next book. I mean you’ve already written four of the five books in your ‘Killer Chris’ series and he’s traveled all across the country. Might as well end it close to home, right?” 

“That’s a good point. Yeah, I think we should end this series right here in the city,” Bucky agreed. 

“Great.” Steve leaned over to peck Bucky on the lips. “I’ll leave you to it then. I’ve got some planning to do. Killer Chris might as well end with a bang, pun very much intended.” Steve shot him a wink, then headed into his office. 

Bucky chuckled and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t wait to see what Steve would come up with for his next book. 

  
  


^^^^^^^^^^^

Steve and Bucky’s relationship had been a little….. unorthodox from their first meeting. Steve had intended for Bucky to be one of his victims. 

When they met, Bucky was a struggling writer. He had published a few things in magazines and online, but he wanted to write novels that would rocket him to the best sellers list with the likes of James Patterson and David Rosenfelt. He wanted nothing more than to be a novelist, making a living creating things that would bring people joy in their spare time. But at the time he settled for being a bookstore manager and writing in all the spare time he had. 

He met Steve in a coffee shop in Phoenix, Arizona of all places. Bucky took a week off from work to visit his sister Becca who moved out there after college. While she was working, he decided to spend the day in the first coffee shop he could find.

He sat there for hours pouring over everything he had written in the last ten years hoping to find a diamond in the rough; hoping to find the drabble he could make into something. He was on the verge of tearing his hair out and giving up on writing forever when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. He looked up from his laptop to see the most beautiful man he had seen in ages. 

The man standing before he was small, he couldn’t have been more than 5’6. His shaggy blonde hair was ruffled as if he was continuously running his hands through it. And his hands, those were something that Bucky expected would be featured in his fantasies for the foreseeable future. His slender fingers looked like they would hit all the right buttons if given the chance. His eyes were the most stunning shade of blue and his rosebud lips were begging to be kissed. He found himself wondering if they would become more pink if he did have the chance to kiss him. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he started in a voice that was much deeper than Bucky expected, “but all of the tables are occupied. Would it be alright if I sat with you? You happen to be occupying one half of the only table with an outlet that isn’t filled.” 

“I, um, yeah. Sure. That’s fine,” Bucky stuttered out, mentally cursing himself for being so stupid. He gestured for his guest to sit down. “I’m Bucky, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you Bucky, I’m Steve,” he introduced. Steve pulled his laptop out of his messenger bag before speaking again. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “I’m a writer, well, an aspiring writer. I was going through some of the old garbage I wrote, hoping there was something salvageable in my many, many abandoned documents. Turns out, there was a reason they were all abandoned.” 

“What kind of stories do you write? Maybe I can inspire you somehow as a thanks for letting me join you.”

“Well, I want to write crime novels. You know, those ones where the hot shot detective hunts down the crazy killer who threatens his family or something. But everything I think to write feels so overdone. It feels like I am rewriting every crime novel I’ve ever read. I just want to do something original.” He paused, making note of the strange look on Steve’s face. “Sorry for dumping all that on you. I’m a little stressed.” 

Steve schooled his expression, bringing it back to neutral. “Don’t worry about it. But I do have an idea that could be an interesting take on it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yup. Have you ever thought about writing from the killer’s perspective?” 

“Write from the……” Bucky trailed off. “That’s brilliant! I could kiss you.” 

Steve blushed and Bucky's eyes widened. “At least buy me dinner first,” Steve joked. 

“Happily,” Bucky said honestly, knowing he had nothing to lose. 

“Really?” Steve asked, clearly shocked by the offer. 

“Yeah, really. The first thing I noticed about you was how attractive you are. Plus, I’m only in Phoenix until the weekend so I figured why not shoot my shot.” 

“Well, I guess we have a dinner date,” Steve smiled softly, taking a sip of his coffee to cover it slightly. “If you’re not from here, where are you from?”

“Brooklyn.” 

“What are the odds, so am I.”

After their dynamic had been established Steve admitted that he intended for Bucky to finish off his frat boy triad, following Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins, but ultimately changed his mind after talking to him. 

The odd thing was, Bucky never feared for his life with Steve. Maybe it was some sort of evolutionary malfunction where a fourth ‘f’ was added to the fight, flight, or freeze method of survival -it would stand for fuck, obviously- and that was the one that Bucky chose. He never once regretted his choice to stay with Steve; the fact that he was the reason Bucky’s books were so popular helped, but wasn’t the main reason he stayed.

He stayed because Steve was one of the kindest, most caring people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing -as long as you ignored the whole ‘serial killer’ thing. He would defend the people he loved with his dying breath, and Bucky considered himself lucky to be one of those people. 

  
  


^^^^^^^^^^^

The thing about Bucky’s novels was the accuracy with which they depicted Steve’s killings. He always made sure to pick a triad of kills that was done at least a year before he would send it to his publisher. If he picked on too soon, it could expose them both. The cases would be old enough that the media would have reported as much as they could on it, and they would be cold enough that the local police would be willing to give some ‘previously unknown’ information to the popular novelist who thought their case was interesting enough to warrant basing a book on it. When it came to the killer’s thoughts and feelings, he always asked Steve what was going through his head at the time and added some literary flourish to it. 

His novels were quick to rise to popularity due to their unique approach to the crime novel. By telling them from the perspective of the killer and not having him get caught in the end, he was changing the genre in ways he never could have imagined. His family was so proud of him for making his dreams a reality, but they didn’t know the whole truth. There was always a nagging little voice in the back of Bucky’s head that told him it wouldn’t last forever and that they would be caught, but he tried not to listen to it too often. As long as he ignored that voice, he could pretend that his novels aren’t his and Steve’s confession of their sins. 

The thing that made the books so unique was the connection between them, and that was all Steve. His main character travels around the country committing completely different murders that have no obvious connection to each other. In interviews, he says that he picks a random city and researches recent murder cases there, but in reality they are planned out. He and Steve agree on a city. Steve figures out his M.O. for that specific triad, and if he needed a little practice with how he wanted to restrain his victims Bucky was very willing to help. Steve always chose a weird signature, something that would stand out to the investigators. He picked something that would give him a fun name; something that could possibly make it to national news. The more popular the killings were, the more it made sense for Bucky to pull inspiration from them. 

The first ‘Killer Chris’ novel ended up recounting Steve’s Phoenix killings, they were the reason they met after all. The media had given Steve some silly name that Bucky honestly couldn’t remember, so he changed it to ‘The Femboy Frat Killer.’ Steve’s signature on that case was the patchwork dresses. 

Steve would use his twink-like appearance to manipulate a closeted frat boy into wanting to sleep with him. He would flirt with them until he knew they would go with him willingly, then he would drug their drinks. This gave him the time to get them to a secluded location to carry out his plans without him having to lug them around. When he finally had them alone, away from other people, and so drugged up that they couldn’t fight back, he would strip them out of their clothes and put them in the dresses. The dresses themselves were crudely made, using whatever scarps of fabric Steve could get his hands on without having anything to trace back to him. On top of putting them into a dress, Steve would restrain them. He wanted them to be sober and aware when he killed them. 

Eventually, when the douchebags came to, Steve would begin his fun. He would straddle their chest and wrap his slender fingers around their neck. As the men struggled he would squeeze, not enough to kill them but enough to make them think he would. Steve spent at least an hour doing that, bringing his victims to the edge of darkness before letting them gasp for air. He had no trouble admitting that he got off on the power he had over these men who treated him as if he was nothing more than a warm hole for them to use to get off. 

After Phoenix, Steve moved on to Chicago. For the Windy City, Steve decided that he really wanted to scare them. He wanted to make them think they had a cannibal on their hands. His victim pool was similar to the one from Phoenix, young healthy men, but due to the drastic difference he wasn’t too worried about that. For this triad the cause of death wasn’t anything to write home about, just an ice pick to the back of the neck. It was what he did after that concerned Steve. 

He would slice their torso open from sternum to groin and push back the skin to get a good look inside. He took a sick satisfaction from breaking each rib, giving him access to the lungs and heart. With his favorite small knife, he carefully cut the heart out as well as a small chunk of lung. Then he would shift lower and root around in their guts to find their kidneys. He would take those and the liver. 

Steve had absolutely no desire to eat the organs, but he collected them nonetheless. He put them in a plastic bag to be tossed into a dumpster in the vicinity. And maybe start a little dumpster fire to be sure that no one found them. 

For the novel though, Bucky wanted to switch it up. His character fed organs he pilfered to street cats that he found. He also changed the organs he removed, because those weren’t public knowledge and he couldn’t find a detective willing to give him the details he already knew. The heart and liver remained the same, but the lungs and kidneys were switched with the spleen. If the details were all the same, he ran the risk of accidentally confessing. 

Boston was Steve’s next city that Bucky pulled inspiration from. Steve thought it could be fun to play on his Irish heritage for that one. He scooped out the city's parks, finding the most secluded places and learned their traffic patterns. Once his locations had been selected, he sought out his victims. As a challenge for himself, Steve chose to seduce widowed women in their late 50’s-60’s. He would meet them in the park for a romantic walk, then suggest finding somewhere a little more secluded. When he had them where he wanted them, Steve would inject them with a paralytic cocktail of drugs that would keep them still, quiet, and most importantly, very much aware of what was happening to them. 

Steve would lay them out of the grass, smirking at the fear in their eyes. He, much like in Chicago, would cut them from sternum to groin. Though here, he wanted them to watch. He wanted them to see their torsos being cut open. He wanted the women to watch as he pulled out their intestines and set them down outside their body. He got off on the horror they expressed as he scooped the dirt from the ground next to them and placed it where their organs had previously been. The last victim of this triad was the only one who lived long enough for him to delicately plant clovers in the dirt filling her guts. 

There had been others, of course, but not all could become novels. At least, not yet. In Los Angeles Steve used his artistic abilities to fashion metal wings which he would stab through the backs of young, beautiful women. In Nashville he would strangle older men with guitar strings. In Orlando he decapitated middle aged men, cut off their hands, and placed the hands on top of their heads to look like a twisted Mickey Mouse. All in all, Steve gave Bucky a lot to work with. 

He was looking forward to learning what chaos Steve could accomplish with New York. New York would be fun. New York was their home. He couldn’t wait to see what Steve had come up with for the Big Apple. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, 
> 
> Beware, this chapter is pretty much all smut..... Also, it’s super fucked up, murdery smut.....
> 
> Anyway....... Enjoy!(?) 
> 
> Xoxo   
> -Kit

**_BREAKING NEWS_ **

**_A few hours ago, NYPD officers found the body of a young man in Central Park. Peter Quill was a 27 year old amateur DJ living in Hell’s Kitchen. His body was found laying under a tree, his hands and feet severed and hanging from the branches. With the recent uptick in avant garde serial murders this reporter is left to wonder, does manhattan have a serial killer on its hands? This is Trish Walker, signing off._ **

  
  
  


**_@k!ll3rchr!s :_ ** **Oh My God. This new crazy killer is right in @JBBarnes’s backyard! I wonder if this will be the plot of his new book!**

**@killerbarnes : @k!ll3rchr!s there is no way he would go for that, it’s way too obvious. Those murders in LA where the guy shoved metal wings through people chests is more likely.**

**@k!ll3rchr!s : @killerbarnes SWEETIE this is the last book of his series, it’s obvi gonna be on his home turf.**

**@JBBarnes : 🍎🔪🤔**

  
  
  
  


“Honey, I’m home,” Steve shouted as he walked through the front door. 

“In the kitchen,” Bucky shouted back to him. 

Instead of walking all the way in, Steve leaned against the doorframe. “Are you working on anything urgent?” 

“Give me two minutes to finish up the dough and then I’m all yours while it proves.”

“Two whole minutes. I’m not sure I can wait that long. I mean, I did just make that national news,” Steve teased. 

Bucky stopped what he was doing to look back at Steve. “National news?” 

“Mhm,” Steve made his way over to Bucky. “Apparently my play on the Big Apple was enough to get other places worried. Maybe I should plan something for Georgia and their precious little peaches.” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “Come on honey, why don’t you finish up that dough and meet me in the bedroom.” 

Excited for what was to come, Bucky worked quickly to finish up. He set the dough aside to rise and cleaned up his mess. He hastily made his way to their bedroom, pausing outside the door to regain some semblance of composure. 

“Strip,” Steve instructed him the second he set foot in their room. 

Without hesitation, Bucky pulled his shirt over his head. He took a moment to enjoy how Steve’s eyes raked over his body, admiring the physique he worked so hard to maintain. 

At the last second Bucky decided to tease his husband. He slowly trailed his hands down his torso before settling them on the waistband of his jeans. He played with the button, circling his index finger around it a few times, before popping it open. He flicked his eyes to Steve, winked, then palmed himself. He moaned at the contact, feeling himself get harder. 

He flicked his back to Steve and pulled down his zipper, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He then hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid them down his hips. As he did that, he made sure to give his hips a little shimmy. Steve’s lips curled into a smirk at the sight of the red lace jockstrap that was caressing Bucky's rapidly hardening cock. 

Bucky walked over to the bed and stood between Steve’s legs. 

“See something you like, dear?” He teased. 

Steve placed his hands low on Bucky’s hips and pulled him close. “Baby you know how much I love seeing you in red,” he smirked. “But, I recall telling you to strip. You do know that includes this pretty little thing, right?”

“What will you do if I don’t?”

Steve took his right hand off Bucky’s hip and moved it to his throat. He squeezed lightly, tugging Bucky closer to him. “You know full well what I am capable of,” he growled. 

Bucky couldn’t hold back a moan, nearly melting into Steve’s lap. “Please,” he begged, not really knowing for what.

“Please what, honey? What do you want me to do?”

“Anything. Everything. Please Stevie, please.” 

Steve abruptly stood up, keeping his hand firmly on his husband's neck. He leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Steve met his eyes, lips curling up into a predatory smirk. He shifted slightly to the side, then used his hand on Bucky’s hip to shove him face-first into the bed. 

Bucky gasped in surprise as he hit the sheets. Before he could resituate himself, Steve was pulling the jockstrap off of him. 

“What’s this?” Steve asked, seeing a familiar red gemstone between Bucky’s legs. “It’s almost like you knew this was going to happen when I got home.”

Steve tugged on the end of the plug, causing Bucky to let out a pathetic whimper beneath him. “Saw the news. I was optimistic.” 

“I’m glad you were. We can get to the fun part quicker,” he told him as he pulled the plug out.

Steve tore off his clothes, throwing them around the room. He grabbed the lube out of their bedside table to slick himself up. Then he flipped Bucky onto his back, spread his thighs apart, and pushed into his hole. 

“Fuck honey,” Steve moaned as he bottomed out. “You look so pretty like this.” 

Bucky groaned at the feeling. Steve’s lips grazed over his, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“The things I could do to you while I have you like this.” 

“Tell me,” Bucky gasped. 

Steve let out a guttural moan as he pounded into his husband. He picked up his right hand from where I was next to Bucky’s head and slid it up to his throat. “Oh honey, you look so damn sexy with my hand wrapped around your throat.” 

Bucky let out a moan. 

“Yeah Baby, you like that don’t you? You like having my hand wrapped around your neck? I know you do honey. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to strangle you like this? All I’d have to do is tighten up my grip just a little and you’d stop breathing. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You would let me strangle you.” 

Bucky felt like he was floating already. He knew Steve was right. He would let Steve do whatever he wanted to him. He would let Steve kill him however he wanted, and Bucky would die a happy man. 

“Yes,” he breathed out, “whatever you want, Stevie. I’d let you do anything you want to me.” 

Steve’s lips turned up into a smirk. “Oh sweetie, I have a very long list of things that I would do to you.”

Steve continued to grind his hips into buckys. Bucky himself was panting, begging for more. “Tell me,” he begged. “Tell me what you would do to me.” 

His husband smiled over him. “Oh honey. You know how much I love having you tied up, don’t you?” 

“Mhm,” Bucky barely managed to groan out.

“I would use my ropes, you know the ones. The ones that you love so much. The ones that I use to tie up my victims. We both know how pretty you look with them wrapped around you. Such pretty white ropes, stained with the blood of those that came before you.” Steve lets out a heavy breath. “I would love nothing more than to add your blood to that collection. To add to the stains, making note of which were from you.” 

Bucky’s breath hitched as Steve hit his prostate dead on. No pun intended….. 

“Oh yes darling, your blood changing those white ropes red would be my greatest accomplishment. Knowing that the man I love so much will always be with me in spirit, with every life I take. God, it would make each kill more arousing than the last.”

Bucky feels like he can’t breath, which might be due to Steve hand still putting pressure around his throat. His body feels like it is of fire, every thrust of Steve’s hips had him engulfed in pleasure. 

“Oh my pretty, I could do whatever I wanted. I bet if I asked you would let me drag one of my knives all over you, wouldn’t you? I bet I wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just let me. I could stop fucking you right now, go an grab my favorite knife, and drag it all across your torso, and you would be a sobbing mess beneath me. I’m right, aren’t I? ,You wouldn’t even care if it was covered in the blood of my last kill. That would make you like it even more, wouldn’t it? Hm? Tell me baby, would you like that?” 

“Oh god yes,” Bucky moaned without a second thought. “Yes, I would love that. I want you to do that. I want you to tie me up. I want you to drag that knife along my torso. I want you to cut me, dig the blade into my skin and make me bleed.” 

Steve groaned, clearly enjoying what Bucky was saying back to him. “Oh my love, I wouldn’t just drag it or cut you. Baby, I would pierce you flesh. I would shove the blade between your ribs. I would keep fucking into you as I watched the light drain from you eyes, and you would let me, wouldn’t you? You would let me kill you, wouldn’t you Bucky?” 

Bucky felt the first flames of pleasure burning in his stomach. He knew he was getting close. With Steve perfectly thrusting into his prostate, he wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer. 

“Tell me Bucky. Tell me how you would let me kill you. Tell me that you would be okay with it.” 

“Stevie. Yes. I want you to. I want you to take your favorite knife and put it between my ribs. I want you to tighten your grip on my neck until I can’t breathe. Whatever you want baby. You can kill me however you want. All I want is to cum on that pretty cock of yours. I don’t care what happens to me after.” 

Steve doubled down, seeming to sense how close Bucky was. With every thrust, he hit Bucky’s prostate. Bucky clenched around his cock as if trying to make Steve cum with him. 

“You’re going to cum aren’t you baby? You’re so close. I can feel it. Are you going to come on my cock alone, baby?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky moaned. “Please. Please make me cum on your cock, Stevie.”

Steve moved down to brush his lips against Bucky’s ear to whisper to him. “Just imagine it baby. Imagine me taking my knife and plunging it onto your chest. Can you feel it? Can you feel the blade piercing your flesh? Can you feel it plunging into your lung, taking your breath away? You can, can’t you?” Steve groaned. “I wouldn’t stop, you know. I wouldn’t stop fucking you. It doesn't matter to me if you are breathing or not. I would keep your corpse in our bed and keep fucking it until you are too decayed for it to e worth my while.” 

With that, Bucky was blinded by ecstasy. His entire body tensed as he came on Steve’s cock. Every inch of his body was burning with pleasure as he coated his stomach. 

Steve continued to pump onto him. Each time, he grazed against Bucky’s sensitive prostate. Though, Steve only lasted for a minute longer than him. He soon released into Bucky, moaning his name as he did. Steve rode out his orgasm, buried deep in Bucky’s ass. 

They stayed like that for a moment, catching their breath. 

Eventually, Steve pulled out nd got out of the bed. He went to the bathroom, got a cloth, and cleaned up the mess that he and Bucky had made.

“Thanks Stevie,” Bucky mumbled into his chest when they were finally snuggled up under the covers. 

“Anything for you darling,” Steve whispered as he carded his hand through Bucky’s hair. “You better sleep well tonight. You’ve got a long day of writing ahead of you tomorrow.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo thay was something, wasn’t it..... 
> 
> Ummmmm
> 
> I have zero explanation for this. 
> 
> Love you 
> 
> -Kit

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Hope you are enjoying this so far! Feel free to follow me on Twitter @erosanderis for updates on this fic and any others that I’m working on! 
> 
> Can’t wait to see you all again with my next update.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always very much loved! 
> 
> -Kit


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